


when they put me on the stand (i will testify i love you)

by koisurufortunecookie



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: F/F, Genderswap, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Liberal Unity, Makeup, ancoms still nb but shes a demigirl who uses she/her + ancap thinks of her as female, some talk about sex but nothing actually happens, the other two are mentioned but dont show up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23152138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koisurufortunecookie/pseuds/koisurufortunecookie
Summary: Ancap isn't the type of girl who does things for free, but Ancom's makeup is bad enough to require urgent intervention on behalf of their brand as extremists. It's definitely not because she wants to spend time with the little gremlin or anything.Right?
Relationships: Ancom/Ancap
Comments: 7
Kudos: 101





	when they put me on the stand (i will testify i love you)

**Author's Note:**

> could update one of my big multichapter fics..... could also write lesbian political ideologies like the dipshit i am..... so many choices.
> 
> Anyways, hi! Dropping my first contribution to the fandom here, and like literally all my other shit it's genderbends bc that's my brand. Libunity irl sucks but libunity in Jreg? That's good.
> 
> Oh also! The title's from Baby's A Red by House of Heroes. I guess it would be slightly more fitting for a ship involving Tankie but Anarkiddy's a communist too dammit.

“Seriously, don’t you know how dire this is considering  _ I’m _ offering to do it for free?”

Ancap pouted overdramatically, reaching out to play with some of the black, shoulder length hair tied into puffy low pigtails sticking out of Ancom’s hoodie only for the leftist to bat her hand away. “I don’t need you to ‘fix’ my makeup! I do it how I like it, and I’m not about to let you manhandle me until I conform to your fucking patriarchal beauty standards!”

“Listen, I couldn’t give less of a shit about how you look like a depressed, drug addicted E-girl most of the time- well, how you  _ are  _ a depressed, drug addicted E-girl, but we’re working together against the centrists right now.” Moving to grab the remote and turn the TV off (turns out both the anarchists liked Breaking Bad, albeit for different reasons- Ancom loved to rant about the horrible pay US teachers got that could lead them to desperate situations to save money, Ancap just like the look into the highly profitable and extremely unregulated drug production business), Ancap sighed, long brown hair falling over the shoulders of her yellow pinstripe skirtsuit. “The rest of us look at least somewhat presentable and can draw the less extreme ideologies into our plans like that- you need to pull your weight if you’re working with us. Besides, don’t your ‘patriarchal beauty standards’ or whatever say that people listen more to a woman if she’s attractive? You’ll get more people on your side if you look nice. I’m helping you here!”

If there was one thing Ancap knew she was undoubtedly the best at, it was selling her ideas to someone. She could see the other girl’s expression (or what she could see of it under that mask) turn from one of complete annoyance to one of cautious contemplation.  _ For the love of Rand, that’s some horrible cat eyeliner. _ She was making progress here- time to seal the deal. Leaning in a bit and pulling down her sunglasses to expose heterochromic purple-yellow eyes, Ancap whispered almost conspiratorially. “You always talk about female solidarity, and I’m all with you as a fellow lady anarchist. Can’t you see how those authoritarians look down on us because we aren’t controlling brutes?”

Ancom’s expression shifted again, any thoughts of accusing Ancap of not actually being an anarchist seemingly vanishing when she realized what the other part of that sentence was. Passion abruptly flooded into bright green eyes. “Well, yeah. They’re men, of course they want to be able to tell us what to do and how to act! Girls like us are the ones fighting for freedom and looking out for each other!”

It looks like Ancom had forgotten the time Ancap had almost sold her into one of her McBrothels™ (and what a shame the leftist figured out what was going on at the last second- think of all the money Ancap would have made once some of Nazi’s buddies caught wind of the situation!), which was a relief. Anyways, Ancap had made enough deals with neoliberal feminists to know their lingo, a certain amount of which overlapped with Ancom’s version when the other girl got a little too lost in idpol. “Absolutely! Commie and Nazi just don’t get how hard it is out here for us ladies. If you work within the system a little and bring more followers in, we’ll absolutely have the numbers on those damn totalitarians and they’ll have to treat us like equals! Just let me tidy you up a little and it’ll be great!”

Although it seemed like the part of Ancom’s brain that hadn’t been completely fried by all the ecstasy was a bit suspicious, Ancap could almost see the other girl’s excited visions of the anarcha-feminist flag fluttering over a bunch of dead fascists. “Well, alright- just until we have enough numbers to properly dismantle gender as an institution entirely.”

Well, considering how much money she’d already made by selling a million different sets of pronoun pins, that could be tolerated to a degree. Putting her hand on Ancom’s shoulder, Ancap flashed her million dollar smile (literally- privatized dental care under an economy with little to no food quality standards, you can put two and two together). “Great! Let’s get you all cleaned up!”

* * *

There was sure a lot of makeup in that one case. Ancap hadn’t been expecting Ancom to have so much, but it almost covered the entire living room table. Humming, one of Ancap’s professionally manicured hands pulled out a bottle of foundation that should have reasonably been way out of Ancom’s price range. “How do you afford things like this when you can’t even afford a new hoodie?”

“First off, this hoodie is sentimental, okay? You have no idea how many riots this thing’s followed me and my comrades through.” Ancom moved her pulled-down bandana to the side and twisted a bit to show off the various patches and pins on the ragged green sweater- the antifa flag, the hammer and sickle blended with the anarchist A  _ (ugh, gag _ ), a firm black ACAB, and a couple pride flags Ancap couldn’t recognize (one yellow-white-purple-black, then an orange-white-pink one), though maybe they’d be worth paying attention to if she could make cash off them later. “Second, what makes you think I pay for my makeup? It’s literally so easy to just go to Sephora, stuff as much in your pockets as you can, and get the hell out of dodge.”

Sighing, Ancap rolled her eyes before opening the bottle, squirting a bit onto her fingers before going to apply it to Ancom’s face. “Stealing only ensures those workers you claim to fight for will be fired.”

“If they’re the narcs in loss prevention, fuck ‘em, and it’s illegal to do that to other employees.”

“You think it won’t happen just because it’s against the law? Just like how there’s no drug use thanks to them being illegal?” Ancap hummed as she blended the foundation into the other girl’s skin. It was probably for the best that she had her own foundation- stolen or not- considering she was several shades darker than Ancap. Speaking of, that had the capitalist a bit curious. “Y’know, Nazi’s always up in your face about you not being white. Are you?”

Ancom huffed, one eye popping open to stare in annoyance. “It’s not like it’s any of your business, plus race is a social construct to begin with, but my parents are from Spain. I think he assumes I’m Mexican ‘cause he’s heard me speaking Spanish before.”

Putting down the foundation, Ancap moved to pick a rosy blush from the case (printed, predictably for Ancom, with a bright rainbow flag). “Spain’s in Europe. He’d probably get off your back about it if you just told him you’re Spanish.” 

“And then what would he do? Go bug some other racially ambiguous person? I’d rather he stay focused on me- I can take it.” Closing her eye again, Ancom let out a long breath. Even talking about their Authright housemate (well, Ancom’s housemate, Ancap’s tenant) seemed to send the leftist into a minor tizzy. “I dunno how you can stand him.”

Chuckling, Ancap blended the blush into the other girl’s cheeks. It was almost cute the way she hadn’t lost her babyface despite seeming angry all the time- too bad it was hidden under a mask half the time. “Unity is an important thing. I work with him for the same reasons you work with Commie.”

The other anarchist pursed her lips, opening her eyes back up only to sigh and close them again when she noticed Ancap picking out some eyeshadow. “I actually like Tankie, kind of. He cares about the needs of the working class.”

“Ignoring how he steals from hard workers to give handouts to leeches, did you just forget what he did to your little buddies back in Makhnovia?” Eventually deciding on a nice gold shimmer, Ancap scooted a bit closer to brush the shade over Ancom’s closed eyelids. “Plus, I’ve never seen someone so possessive and yet so dismissive of another person at the same time until I saw how he treats you.”

Ancom’s brows furrowed, eyes opening back up once Ancap pulled away to look for an eyeliner. “What do you mean?”

“How many eyeliners can you fit in your damn pockets? Also, close your eyes and give the eyeshadow time to set. This is how your makeup ends up so messy every time.” As the other girl huffed and closed her eyes, Ancap went back to pawing through the mess of makeup spread out on the table. “He’s all protective whenever Nazi or I make jabs at you but then treats you like a stupid kid whenever you get all passionate. It’s even in his nickname for you. That’s not even getting into how pissed off he gets when you and I hang out, crowing about how he needs you for ‘leftist unity’ or whatever. I’m not sure if he wants to shoot you in the back or sleep with you.”

Despite Ancap’s earlier orders, Ancom’s eyes shoot wide open, pupils small enough to reveal the dark green outline of the sabo-tabby that blended nearly seamlessly in with her iris. “Wait, what are you  _ talking _ about?!”

Was this girl intentionally oblivious towards more than just basic economics? Ancap feels a twinge of irritation in her gut for reasons she can’t place. “You must be reeeeeally fucked up by the time night rolls around if you don’t hear him through the walls- he’s never been quiet about anything in his entire life, but especially not when he’s groaning your name.”

The artificial blush on Ancom’s cheeks deepens with a more natural red. “He doesn’t… Tankie doesn’t see me like that. We’re comrades in the fight against capitalism.”

“Comrade-zoning him, hm? Seriously though, close your eyes.” Waving a deep black eyeliner in Ancom’s face, Ancap waited for the girl to reluctantly comply before getting to work, delicate strokes working the liquid liner around the pigtailed girl’s waterline. “He’s not bad looking, even if he is a statist. Aren’t you all about wild unprotected sex with strangers? Why not with someone you know won’t turn you down?”

Ancom shifted uncomfortably on the couch. Her red-black tartan miniskirt rose up slightly, revealing a bit more of her thick, fishnet-covered thighs. Ancap nearly overdraws the wing in her brief distraction. “Do you not see the pride flag I’ve got on my hoodie? Orange-white-pink?”

“You come up with new flags every other day. That means nothing to me.”

“Ugh. Forget it.” The left anarchist huffs a bit, though Ancap has spent enough time around her to know when she’s really upset and when she’s just briefly irritated by whatever great injustice has her all bothered today. “You stay out of my sex life normally. Why do you care about whether or not I get with Tankie?”

Why did she care? Why did Ancap feel a low resentment whenever Commie spent a second too long looking at his fellow leftist, whenever they pulled the ‘leftist unity’ card (a total cheap shot considering that Nazi didn’t seem to want anything to do with her unless she was selling him something)? Why did she find herself here, working for free (!) just so she could bring out the hidden beauty she could always see in someone who by all means should be just another communist scumbag?

… Ancap’s not like the others, not the type of girl to lie to herself about the harsh truths of this world. Some part of her understands exactly why she cares so much about who Ancom winds up with, why she feels a potent jealousy when the other girl stumbles in at three AM high out of her mind and cheerfully dragging Leftcom or Luxemburgist or whoever she happened to run into that evening back to her bedroom. But she’s not lying to herself just by choosing not to acknowledge it, yeah? That’s a completely different thing, right?

Right.

Doing just that, she crams her feelings to the back of her mind- it’s something she knows how to do very well. Evicting enough sobbing families from their homes so one of her many companies could bulldoze the neighbourhood and start shopping center construction work has made her very good at suppressing those pesky emotions. It makes it easier to falsify a story for Ancom. “I only ask because there’d be quite the market out there for porn of an absolute unit of a Russian guy railing a subby little junkie chick. I’d film it and then give you two cuts of the profits so you can slow the gradual yet certain starvation of your sheeple.”

“You’re lying.”

”Of course I’m not. I’d pay you handsomely if it sold well.”

“Not what I meant. You’re lying about why you care.”

Ancap’s hand freezes up just as she finishes the last eyeliner wing. Green eyes fluttering open, Ancom stares forwards with an implacable expression, her own arm reaching up to take Ancap’s wrist and push it down slowly. Her poorly painted red-and-black nails may be bitten down considerably, but the capitalist can still feel them pressing gently into thin flesh. Not squeezing- just holding. “People call me a bleeding heart, but that empathy means I can spot a liar from a mile away. You haven’t been honest about your intentions since the start of this whole thing, and you don’t do anything for anyone else’s sake unless you think it’ll benefit you somehow.”

The other girl doesn’t break eye contact, and Ancap is suddenly extremely thankful for the way her own sunglasses block her eyes. Even with that barrier in the way, though, she still feels uncomfortably seen. Something akin to nervousness rises in her gut. “... What do you think my intentions are?”

“Does it matter what I think?” Ancom releases her grip on the capitalist’s arm and leans in, her own gaze searching for… Something. “You aren’t nearly as bad as Nazi, but you’re a capitalist vulture who destroys countless lives and vulnerable communities without a second thought. I buy drugs from you and we work together against the centrists- that’s it. You don’t get to hear my thoughts. We aren’t friends, Ancap.”

Ancap doesn’t know why the leftist stares at her like she’s peeling each layer of her well-maintained lavish exterior away, digging for truths below the surface, but she doesn’t like it one bit. Nor does she like the way her heart falls at the last part of Ancom’s little tangent. It shouldn’t hurt- it really, really shouldn’t. Relationships were all expendable. Ancap knows she has her pick of companionship from those in her own quadrant, people with views that line up much smoother with hers. So why do her lungs feel like they’re running out of air even as she speaks, leaning away and half-heartedly scrounging through the makeup pile for some lipstick? “Of course we aren’t. This is just entertainment for me.”

“Sure.” 

The blatant disbelief in Ancom’s voice would have been annoying under any other circumstances. Now, it’s just another pin in Ancap’s chest as she straightens back out, randomly chosen lipgloss in hand. Her voice stays even as she leans in, cupping the other girl’s chin in her hand as she tips her face upwards. “Almost done. Just doing your lipgloss and we’re finished.”

Ancom stares with that unreadable expression, lips parting gently as Ancap touches the small applicator to them. The product leaves a shiny pink sheen over full lips that Ancom usually hid under her bandana shimmering in the light of the living room. Ancap gently pulls the applicator back, still holding the other girl’s chin and looking down upon her work. Glittering gold brought out green irises, thick black lashes decorating a much more refined wing. Ancom’s somewhat sickly appearance (that still managed to be so endearing) has been put aside for that of an elegant young woman, dolled up in her war paint and ready to face the harsh world ahead of her. 

It should be like this all the time. It  _ could _ be like this all the time.

Ancap doesn’t realize she’s leant down to kiss Ancom until she feels the other girl reciprocating.

Ancom’s arms wrap around her waist, and Ancap all but throws her arms over the leftist’s shoulders, neither one willing to pull away from the rapidly deepening kiss. This leads to both girls inevitably falling backwards on the couch, Ancap’s legs haphazardly straddling Ancom’s waist. One of her purple stilettos tumbles over the side of the sofa, and she finds she doesn’t really give a shit about that as the other girl’s tongue curls over hers. 

Pulling back for air briefly, Ancap notices that some of her own pink lipstick has smeared across the other girl’s freshly applied gloss. She doesn’t have time to worry much about the state of either of their makeup jobs, though, as Ancom leans up to gently nibble at the top of her lip and pull all thoughts from her mind as the kiss resumes. It’s like a dam just broke in her mind- every hidden wonder she’d ever had about her fellow anarchist flooded out, all her questions being answered in real time.  _ Despite looking fried, Ancom’s hair was silky to the touch. Her skin was warm and smooth. And now Ancap’s theory could be confirmed- the other girl definitely had a tongue ring. _

“So that was your motivation?” Ancom speaks between gulps of air after they parted briefly. “Hooking up with me?”

Ancap leans into the other girl, gold silk blazer pressing against Ancom’s ratty green hoodie. She’s not sure whether that frantic beating against her chest is from her own heart or that of the other anarchist. “On some level, I suppose it was.”

“I didn’t know you liked girls.” Ancom’s hands run from the capitalist’s waist to her hips, and Ancap’s legs move involuntarily to wrap around the other girl’s hips. For her part, Ancom pulls her in closer, allowing herself to be held so possesively. Ancap’s sunglasses had tumbled from her face at some point, heterochromic eyes exposed in a way that might have made her uncomfortable had this not been the situation she’d been fantasizing about for ages, and she stares down at the other girl with a shrug.

“It’s bad for business to be open about that sort of thing.” Maybe being open about her tendency to ‘swing both ways’ as Minarchist put it could have made her a few more bucks from the hashtag woke consumers back under Neoliberalism, but Ancap didn’t have to live under that statist rule any longer. Ancapistan was a different environment entirely. “Some people wouldn’t care who I’m attracted to, but some care very, very much. I make money from plenty of people circling around Nazi’s position, and I’m not about to let feelings get in the way of my cash.”

Ancom sighed, leaning up to pepper Ancap’s jawline with kisses. “So they don’t care about the underage child husbands, but you making out with me right now would send them running?”

“They’d yell something about how we’re destroying our culture and then secretly masturbate to the thought of us at night.”

Laughing into Ancap’s neck, Ancom pulled back to face the other girl before moving in for another kiss. The capitalist wasn’t about to protest that, leaning in further and kissing back with all the passion that comes from living in the same house for a month while repressing your feelings.

How long they spent like this was up for interpretation- Ancap certainly wasn’t about to ruin the mood by checking her phone. The two girls let the minutes slip by wrapped up in each other’s arms, kissing and sinking into the plush couch. No statists around to tell them what to do, no withheld feelings in the name of keeping the house together- just two anarchists overwhelmed by pent-up emotions letting their need for the other out. 

After god knew how long, Ancap finally pulled away for more than a brief moment. A trail of spit stretched between both their mouths before breaking, something that would have been disgusting had Ancom not looked so goddamn  _ hot  _ with drool on her chin. Her carefully applied makeup was now a complete mess, eyeshadow everywhere except the eyelids and lipstick a total shitshow, but Ancom was always at her most attractive when she looked like she’d just seen some action, whether that be fresh out of an violent counterprotest or stumbling home from a hookup. It was an intoxicating image as well as the most likely explanation for the words that spilled out of Ancap’s mouth: “After the centricide, come live with me.”

Ancom’s eyes widened, sabo-tabby making an appearance again. “What?”

One thing Ancap had in common with Nazi was that she knew showing vulnerability was nothing short of a death sentence, but she couldn’t stop herself. The thought that Ancom might slip through her fingers after she’d had just a taste of the leftist was unbearable. “You know you can’t live with Commie. You’ll either be killed by him or made into another cog in his statist machine. But under me, you can have your freedom. You could have your little commune if that’s what you wanted. Just pay me or one of the other librights in whatever you produce, and that will be your rent.”

“Ancap-“

“Maybe you’d rather live with me in one of my homes. I ensure all of my spouses have their every whim catered to. All the drugs and art supplies you could ever want. You can stop the constant fighting and have a comfortable, happy life with me.”

Mercifully, Ancom physically lifting her hand up and shifting to sit up on the couch stopped the mortifying word vomit from Ancap’s mouth. “Ancap. Slow it down a little. We just had our first kiss and you’re talking about marriage?”

She had said that, hadn’t she? Ancap sincerely hoped that she was already flushed from the makeout session just so her blush would be hidden. “W-Well, that would simply be so I could ensure you’d have some access to my assets.”

“Mm. Your whole plan just now…” Tilting her head, Ancom watched Ancap quickly move to put her sunglasses back on. “You’ve thought this over for a while, haven’t you?”

“Ah, that’s… I suppose I have.” This exposed feeling wasn’t exactly pleasant, but… Ancap knew Ancom was far from the type to decry emotional behaviours. It made up about half her personality.

Ancom shifted a little further, wiggling out from under Ancap (who tried not to look as glum as she felt about losing the skin-to-skin of their legs against each other. “Look, Ancap. I know you’re kinda culturally ambiguous, but I’m culturally far left. I couldn’t be happy living a charmed life if I knew people were still starving in the streets and barely making rent from a job they hate. Also, landlords don't deserve rights.”  
  
"I should introduce you to Georgism. He'd like you."

Leaning in, Ancom briefly rested her head on Ancap’s shoulder, green eyes flicking up. “Also, we’re both anarchists. We’d die before we agreed to live under someone else’s rules. So I appreciate the offer, but I can’t turn my back on my comrades in the name of an easy life for me.”

That… Sounded like Ancom. Ancap knew on some level that it was a pipe dream to expect  _ Anarcho Communism _ to move to a capitalist society. But… It didn’t mean it didn’t hurt a little to hear it. Even so, she flashed a carefree smile, leaning back against the couch. “It was worth a shot. The offer stands as long as you’d like it to.”

“Thanks anyways.” There was a moment of silence between the two, which was odd- the anarchists of the group were not known for their carefully held tongues. Ancom spoke up again, ending the strange emptiness. “Uh, and sorry for saying we weren’t friends earlier. I guess I was just trying to pretend I’m not a little into you and tried distancing us.”

“Anarchist unity has withstood worse than a few harsh words.” Waving her off, Ancom’s grin grew somewhat catlike. “Though I can't imagine your leftist pal is too pleased about that.”

Ancom chuckled, pulling her bandana back up to cover her lower face. “For the love of Chomsky, we’re not telling Tankie about this.”

“What? You don’t want to see the look on his face when he realizes he got cucked by a capitalist?”

Almost choking on a breath as she snorted in laughter, Ancom threw her head back, leaning further into Ancap’s side. “Oh my god, don’t put it like that!”

Slinging an arm around the smaller girl’s shoulder, Ancap flashed another toothy grin in her direction. “But it’s funnier to say.”

“Whatever you say, capitalist.”

“Love you too, communist.”

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing like the smell of degeneracy in the morning.
> 
> Quick notes!
> 
> \- I reeeeeeally like the idea of personified ideologies having minor non-human characteristics- little things that remind you you’re not necessarily dealing with regular people. (I mean, canon Ancap’s apparently got dollar signs under those sunglasses. So why not write that you can see the outline of the sabo-tabby in Ancom’s eyes when the light hits her right?).
> 
> \- I decided to make our sweet Anarkiddy a Spaniard (albeit one who was probably born + raised somewhere in North America due to canon Ancom seemingly matching up closely with our antifascists) due to what’s likely the most well-known historical anarchist movement coming from there (I suppose I could have also made her Ukrainian but Spain popped up in my mind first). I picture Nazi as German and Tankie as Russian for obvious reasons, but I’m less sure about Ancap. Irish-American? Italian-American? Dunno, but probably white American. Give me liberty or give me death and all that jazz.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Please drop a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


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